


Daddy's Got You

by therogueheart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Drabble, M/M, Peter likes it, Starker, Tony calls himself 'Daddy', gunfire, hints at smut though, not smut, short fic, tumblr import
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therogueheart/pseuds/therogueheart
Summary: Tony calls himself 'Daddy'. It does things to Peter.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 368





	Daddy's Got You

Tony slaps away his meddling fingers, frowning even though a small smile is tilting the corner of his mouth. It’s the fourth time Peter has gone to poke at whatever this new glowy thing is that Tony has been tinkering with, and it’s the fourth time Tony has pushed him away.  
“Shoo, kiddo. Daddy’s got things to build”. It’s muttered, fond and distracted and Peter is so surprised by the jolt it sends down his spine that he let his hand drop to his lap, blinking across at the soft, blue glow spreading down the side of Tony’s face. And then Dumm-E runs over his foot, and it’s forgotten.

Until it isn’t. Peter actually does have a sort of internship at Stark Industries, and he’s sort of Tony’s PA. Today has mostly been spent collecting files from Very Important People and he finds Tony in the penthouse, sat at his personal bar with his legs spread and his tie loose, draped over his shoulders. His suit jacket is strewn across the back of a plush couch, and he beckons Peter closer. “Alright. Show Daddy what we’ve got”. Peter immediately forgets how to function with legs and sprawls into the shaggy fur rug. Tony laughs so hard he snorts expensive whiskey like a sixth grader snorting cola.

It happens again; at a press conference in Seattle. They fire a particularly personal question at Peter, who’s just there at Tony’s side to take notes, and a large, warm hand presses against his chest, like by holding him back he can hold back the answer. “Let Daddy handle this one” Tony cuts in smoothly, and nobody raises Peter’s name for the rest of the hour.

It happens at the Tower, Tony arguing with Pepper and Peter standing meekly in the corner. The words are getting cutting, too personal, and Peter opens his mouth, interjects with “Excu-” and that’s as far as he gets.  
Because Tony holds up a hand and says “Daddy’s talking, Peter”. And his mouth snaps shut. And what’s worse is Pepper side-eyes him, like she knows, and Peter is so guilty he leaves.

Not guilty enough, however, to stop himself getting two knuckles deep in the shower. Pressed up against the cold tiles with the water washing away his moans of “Please, Daddy!”

Someone opens fire at a press announcement. One minute there’s flashing camera lights, and then there’s bullets. Screaming. People begin to swarm for cover and there’s a man, leaping up onto a table with a very big gun. Every nerve in his body sets on fire and Peter’s breathing shallows, sounds muffled as he twists to the side in time to avoid the bullet.

There’s more men. HYDRA, he faintly recognises from the spiralling creature across their chests. He’s helpless, wearing nothing but a suit worth more than his apartment and then one guy vanishes under a round of fire and Tony is stepping in front of him, crowding him back and reaching for him, the other hand held out towards the men as the nano-tech spreads down his wrist, bleeds up his arm.

A shot explodes the wall besides his head and Peter ducks a second too late, ears ringing. Time moves in slow motion and for the first time he’s vulnerable, ducking under the spray of rubble as Tony’s hand closes on his bicep. The men are firing at Tony now and the nano-tech crawls over his shoulders, melts flawlessly into a Mark XVII as Tony spins, crouches down with Peter and shields him with his body.

“Daddy’s here, I’ve got you” Tony coaxes, grips Peter’s chin to help ground him. His eyes are fierce, blazing. Peter’s fingers curl around the metal wrist, eyes wide as he nods. His voice is loud enough to sound over the gunfire, but it feels soft. Like they’re in a bubble. “I’m here. I’m with you” he repeats, tipping his head closer. And then the visor of the mask flips down and smooth as liquid Tony is turning, both hands raised.

The gunfire cuts out within moments, but Peter’s ears still ring. And he still grasps onto Tony’s biceps as soon as the man turns, helmet melting away. Peter isn’t sure when it happened but he’s crying, the armour cold against his cheek as Tony wipes it away almost curiously. He feels pathetic. It wasn’t even a big attack, but…He supposed this is was shock was.

He blames the meek gasp of “ _Daddy_!” On shock, for sure. Tucks his head down against the glow of the reactor as Tony’s arms come around him, and then he’s being scooped up, steel arms supporting under his legs and his back as Tony stands.

“Always, baby. Daddy’s always got you” he coos softly, and then they’re up. The breeze ruffles his hair and stings his cheeks as they blast from a gaping hole in the ceiling. Tony shields his face from the worst of it, and when they touch down on the balcony of the Tower Tony doesn’t let him go. Just lets the suit helmet melt away again and sits them down in the penthouse, holds Peter close like a baby until he falls asleep.

They don’t really talk about it. Not after Peter wakes up at home with Aunt May hovering in the doorway and a Sentinel stood guard by his bed. May put him on house arrest for the rest of the week, and Peter breaks by Sunday evening. May inevitably caves with a lot of sighing and side-eyeing, and eventually agrees that he can go to the Tower once he’s finished dinner.

He’s only halfway across the courtyard when he hears thrusters, looks up to see the Mark XVII gliding through the sky towards him. Peter stopped, chewing his lips thoughtfully. And then simply spread his arms, bracing his body and closing his eyes. Tony doesn’t falter, body twisting as he wrapped his arms around Peter and scooped him up as gently as he could.

It punches the air from his lungs, but for multiple reasons, tangling his legs with Tony’s, tucking his cheek down against his chest as they fly. His ears go numb in the few brief seconds they’re airborne. Tony lands as gracefully as ever and Peter lets his grip go a little slack as they touch down. The suit is flowing down Tony’s cheeks as Peter grips him tighter again. Plasters himself to Tony’s front.

“You’ve got me” he mumbled, and Tony hears him, despite the whistle of the wind in the background.

“Always” He promises, grips Peter back like if he lets go, he’ll float away. Peter think he might, with how much his legs are shaking. How determined Tony’s eyes are when he finally gets the courage to look up.

“You’ve always got me, Daddy”. The word falls from his tongue, before he can even consider stopping it, and Tony’s grip flexes on his hips, brows furrowing just slightly. When Tony opens his mouth Peter cuts him off, runs light hands down his arms until he’s gripping solid vibranium wrists. Pulls, walks backwards.

He can guess where he’s going but he trusts Tony to guide him, and the man does. Keeps their gazes locked but gently steers Peter in the right directions. Nudges him towards the door of the penthouse and past it. The suit still stops at his collar and Peter finally lets go of one wrist, reaches up to grip at the ridge of metal.

All they do for a moment is breathe. Tony’s eyes shield an internal war and Peter knows if he lets him stew too long the visor will flip down and Tony Stark will disappear for the next month. So he tip-toes, puts a second hand over the arc reactor to let the suit flow away from Tony’s shoulders, to let it creep back into its safe little pocket in his chest.

Tony’s chest rises with a quick suck of air. And Peter knows how that feels. To feel naked, at a loss without your armour. But then he’s moving forwards, the hand at Tony’s nape moving up to curl into hair softer than Peter ever thought possible. Pulls Tony down until they’re breathing into each other’s space.

“I need you, Daddy” he whispers into the tense air, stays put and lets Tony decide. The man shudders, tenses like a bull coiled to charge. And then he does. Tony’s hands grip, one at Peter’s waist and the other coming up to rest between his shoulder blades, caging him in.

He growls, low into Peter’s space as he surges forwards. His lips are plump, soft. His stubble scratches at the corners of Peter’s mouth and god, it’s heaven.Then he’s pushing, forcing Peter to stumble backwards until his back hits the wall next to the bar.His head knocks against the wall, protected by Tony’s forearm as they kiss.

And Tony kisses like it’s war. Bites and groans when Peter retaliates, snapping Tony’s lower lip between his teeth. Squeezes their bodies together when Tony’s tongue traces the line of his teeth. “Baby, god” it’s breathless. Tony’s voice husky and rough in ways Peter has only heard fleetingly. And fuck if that doesn’t make Peter’s hips stutter forwards, his head falling back to let Tony mouth at his jaw with a stunted mew.

“Shh, Baby. I’m here. Daddy’s got you” Tony murmured, hands sliding down until Peter’s thighs are gripped tight, legs hauled up to wrap around his waist. Tony’s smirk is wicked when Peter finally opens his eyes, eyes dark with lust.

“Daddy’s always got you”.


End file.
